


Desperation

by MaxWrite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-15
Updated: 2006-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the night, Draco has a sudden need to be near his father. Hey, he’s only returning the favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

Lucius woke to the feeling of hot breath on his neck. He frowned into the darkness.

“Cissy?” he groaned. “Baby …”

The only answer he received was a smooth, delicate hand between his legs. He smiled and placed his own hand over top of it.

“Feeling playful tonight, eh?” he cooed. He rolled toward the warm body next to him, wrapped his thick arm round the tiny waist, drew the body close, claimed the mouth with his own.

The moan he heard was not Narcissa’s.

And he was quite certain that his wife did not have a penis.

He opened his eyes wide, struggling to see in the dim room. Eyes that matched his own exactly were staring back at him.

He slid back quickly. With a graceful and silent movement, he reached back, grabbed his wand from the night stand, thrust it into the air and hissed the spell to bring the torches to life. The room flooded with light. Draco was sitting up slowly, pushing his white-blond hair behind his ears.

“Draco!” Lucius barked. “What the -”

“Shush, mum’ll hear you,” replied Draco calmly. He moved toward his spluttering father, nestled close, placed a single finger against his father’s lips to silence him, moved his face close and whispered, “I know what you did.”

Lucius blinked at him, feigning ignorance, but Draco could see that his father knew precisely what he meant.

“I-I – er, what? What’re you talking about?” Lucius stuttered against Draco’s finger. It was the very first time Draco had ever seen his father stumble over his words. He liked it. What was more, he liked that he was causing it.

Draco removed his finger, put his mouth to his father’s ear and whispered, “I know you came into my room last week, daddy. I _know_ you touched me.”

Lucius jerked his head away. “What’re you on about, boy?” he asked in mock horror.

Draco smirked at him. He sat back on his knees and maintained eye contact with his father as he pulled his t-shirt up over his head, tossed it aside. Lucius couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from travelling down Draco’s smooth, pale chest, down to his stomach where his silvery-blond treasure trail disappeared into his tented pyjamas.

“Draco, I -”

“Shh,” Draco ordered softly as he pulled his waistband down, revealing his leaking, pink prick. He took hold of it, stroked it gently. “Remember this?” he asked coyly. “But you probably didn’t get a good look that night, eh? Too dark. Bet your hands remember, though.” He reached forward, took his father’s large hand and brought it back to himself, placed it on his cock, wrapped the fingers round it. Lucius gaped at him, at it, seemingly unable to move. “Feel familiar, daddy?”

“Where’s your mother?” asked Lucius, all attempts at claiming innocence gone from his deep voice.

“Downstairs. Talking to Aunt Bella through the fire. You’d better hurry.”

“Hurry?”

“If you want to have me tonight.” Draco took hold of his waistband again, this time pulling it down passed his hips, sitting up on his knees, sliding his waistband down his thighs. Then he sat and pushed the pyjamas all the way down and off. A flick of his leg, and the thin, cotton pants went flying across the room.

He went to his father then, went to him and straddled him, cupping his face in his petal-smooth hands, feeling the near-invisible white-gold stubble on the older man’s face. He gazed into his father’s crystal eyes. “Touch me,” he begged in the softest voice.

Lucius was compelled to obey. No one since Narcissa had demonstrated such a hold over his senses. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t _not_ reach up and touch. His hands rested lightly on Draco’s shoulder blades, slowly made their way down to his painfully thin waist, gripped it, held on, savoured the feeling of holding his son that way. Draco began to grind against his lap.

“You do look like your mother, don’t you?” whispered Lucius.

Draco smiled the sweetest, most innocent smile Lucius had ever seen on the boy’s face. It was the very same smile Narcissa had given him so many years ago when they’d first started dating. A young smile. A naïve smile. And yet, it seemed full of wisdom, full of seduction. Everything at once. A perfect combination. And absolutely irresistible.

Lucius brought his face to his son’s, took his son’s mouth once more, plunged his tongue inside. Draco flung his arms about his father’s neck and pressed against him, chest to chest, and, just for a moment, Lucius was certain he could feel a certain desperation in his son’s body, in his writhing, in his kiss. It was something he’d never thought Draco capable of; need.

Draco could feel his father’s hands travelling down his back, nearing his bottom. He arched, making his backside protrude. Lucius’s hands found the graceful inward curve of his lower back, the gentle outward curve of his arse, then finally cupped each tender, round cheek, his fingertips sliding closer and closer to Draco’s crevice.

Draco pushed his bottom out even more. He broke the kiss and looked at his father. “Do it,” he urged, an excited glint of mischief in his pale eyes.

Lucius brought a hand up to Draco’s face, extended his index finger, placed it against Draco’s thin, pink mouth. Draco’s lips parted, and Lucius slid his finger inside. They stared at one another as Draco sucked on his father’s finger, although his eyelids seemed to grow heavy as he tilted his head back. Then Lucius removed his finger from Draco’s mouth, slowly withdrawing, and brought that finger back round to Draco’s arse. He sought out Draco’s tight little hole and pressed his fingertip against it.

Draco drew breath softly in through his teeth, closing his eyes, grabbing onto his father’s shoulders tightly. As Lucius’s finger breeched him, he lifted up a bit, letting his head fall back, slowly rocking his hips as the finger went deeper.

“Daddy,” Draco whispered at the ceiling, his slender body gently undulating against his father’s solid torso. Lucius began to kiss his flat chest, took a pale pink nipple into his mouth, sucked it for a moment, then took it between his teeth and bit down, testing Draco’s pain tolerance. Draco squirmed and groaned in response, rubbing his dick against his father’s belly.

And then Draco was moving away, down onto his hands and knees, pushing Lucius’s legs apart, positioning himself in between them. He dove into his father’s boxers, pulled out his thick cock, and, without hesitation, plunged it into his salivating mouth, locked his lips round it, pressed the head to the back of his eager throat. Lucius inhaled sharply, all his muscles tensing. His finger remained buried deep inside his son, methodically stroking his insides, while his other hand went to the back of Draco’s head, cupped it, held it gently in place as Draco suckled contentedly, humming his pleasure, his knees spread wide, his skinny boy-hips rolling.

“Draco,” Lucius whispered, his breathing becoming ragged. He petted his son’s silky hair, hunched over him, almost protectively, spreading his legs wider to afford Draco more room. He rocked his own hips just a little, thrusting up into Draco’s mouth as he cradled Draco’s head between his legs. “Draco,” he repeated, this time barely loud enough for even himself to hear. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, let his hand stray from the back of Draco’s head, down Draco’s neck and spine, coming to rest on Draco’s back, fingers splayed in helpless, deviant ecstasy.

And all of a sudden, Draco popped back up, eyes wide. He wiped his mouth, seemed to be listening to some distant noise.

“She’s coming,” he hissed. He moved away from his father quickly, Lucius’s finger sliding out of him. He was off the bed and across the room to his pyjamas, scampered into them, back to the bed, bent over to retrieve his shirt from the floor, then was flying toward the door.

“Draco, wait …”

He turned back. Their eyes locked. And Draco took the chance, shot back across the room, onto the bed, kissed his father fiercely, grabbing him round the back of the head.

And there it was again; the need Lucius had felt earlier, evident in every inch of Draco’s body.

Lucius reluctantly pulled his mouth away so he could speak. “I … I don’t … what was this, Draco?”

“Do you want me?”

Lucius blinked. “What?”

_“Do you want me?”_ Draco asked urgently, panic apparent in his voice.

“Well, y-yes, I -”

“Then I’ll be back.” And with one final, hard kiss, Draco was dashing away again, out the door, down the hall, into his room, as silent as a snake, just as Lucius himself had always told him to be. Lucius never even heard Draco's door close.


End file.
